


Better Off As Lovers

by thecelliabration



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Summer of Like, Warped Tour 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecelliabration/pseuds/thecelliabration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't—can't—continue his sentence. Mikey squeezes his fingers, tight. "I know," Mikey murmurs. "I know, Pete."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Off As Lovers

Pete hears the soft click of a door closing, and he shuffles a little in his bunk, pulling the covers up to his neck. Even in the darkness, he knows it's Mikey, for some reason. He turns away, still a little sulky and hurt, facing the wall of the bus.

His curtains open, and his mattress dips. "Pete?"

He keeps his eyes closed.

"Pete, I know you're awake," Mikey says, sighing. Damn him and his freaky intuition or whatever it is that makes Mikey, well, Mikey. He waits a couple of seconds, seeing if he could trick Mikey into thinking he's asleep, but then Mikey sighs again, into the stillness of the night air, and it sounds so different from the usual Mikeyway I-Don't-Care Sigh that Pete rolls to the side.

It's dark, but he can make out Mikey's silhouette, and he frowns at it. "You're an asshole, Mikeyway," he says.

Mikey gives a breathy almost-chuckle, and it almost makes Pete forgive him. Almost. Pete scoffs, tugging his blanket and turning away again, but Mikey catches his hand, curling his long fingers around his wrist. "Pete," Mikey says, softly.

Pete grunts. "What?"

His heart is hammering loudly in his chest, no matter how much he tries to contain it. He's supposed to be mad at Mikey, mad at him for being such an insensitive little fuck, mad at him for acting like he doesn't give a shit about anything when Pete is literally dying just thinking about the rest of summer, how it's going to stretch out and burn bright, how it's going to be for him and Mikey. But he's tugging at Pete's wrist right now, shuffling closer and laying down, resting his forehead on Pete's chest, and suddenly everything fucking hurts. Pete's breath hitches when Mikey presses his face into Pete's shirt.

"Mikey," Pete tries to say, but it comes out broken and breathless. He can't think straight, not with Mikey so close to him, sliding their fingers together, knees curled up, pressing against Pete's. Mikey's glasses dig into his chest, but he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind anything anymore.

Finally, after a few labored breaths, Mikey pulls away a little. Pete's eyes have adjusted to the dark enough to see Mikey looking up at him, his eyes wide and bright when he whispers, "I'm sorry."

He hears something crack from a distance. It might've been his heart. "God, Mikey. You're just—you're so—"

He doesn't—can't—continue his sentence. Mikey squeezes his fingers, tight. "I know," Mikey murmurs. "I know, Pete."

Pete sometimes wishes Mikey wasn't so un-talkative, but at the same time he knows it's just one of the many things he loves about Mikey, that he could say everything Pete needed to say with just a few words. Times like these, it just hurt, it hurt Pete to have so many things running in his mind and he's dying to talk, to spill his heart out in front of Mikey, but sometimes his silence scares the living shit out of Pete.

He doesn't say anything, though. He just makes a soft sound, a cross between a groan and a sigh, and closes his eyes.

There's silence. Something about it feels cold, like if one of them moves, something's going to crackle in the air or break. Pete tries not to think about anything. He concentrates on his breathing, on Mikey curling up against him, on the thrum of his heartbeat. His chest aches for some reason, and he knows he just misses Mikey, even though he's right there holding him. How much more would he feel if they were a thousand miles away from each other?

He can't stand the silence anymore; his thoughts are too loud and every single one of them physically hurt—and apparently Mikey's thinking the same things, because he tightens his hold on Pete's hand again and says, "Don't hate me, Pete, please don't hate me," and he's repeating it, murmuring it like a mantra, pressing himself closer, like he can't get enough.

"Fucking hell," Pete says into the darkness, because he's pretty sure he started crying. Not sobbing, but a tear just slipped from his eye out of nowhere, and he feels it sliding down his nose. "Oh, fuck you, Mikeyway," he whispers, because apparently Mikey can get him crying with just a few words.

Mikey looks up. His glasses are askew. His hand slides out of Pete's to wipe off his tear, because he's Mikeyway, and he knows if you're crying even when it's too dark to see. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I—" Pete squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way his lungs are giving in. "I—you—I fucking love you, Mikey, I can't—"

"Oh," Mikey says, pushing himself up so his face is aligned with Pete's. "Oh."

Then his hand is cupping Pete's cheek, soft and firm at the same time, and their lips are sliding together. Pete clenches his fist first before wrapping it around Mikey, pulling him closer, because the spaces between their bodies could be a galaxy for all he knows. Mikey groans softly, still kissing him, sweet and slow, and Pete aches for it, he can't get enough. It doesn't feel like any of their past kisses, the rushed, stolen, or dirty exchanges in secret. This just feels like...love. Like sadness and longing and warmth, all at the same time, and Pete's hanging on to it, clinging to the kiss like it's their last one, although they have half a summer stretched out before them.

It doesn't seem like it's enough. Nothing does.

Pete wants more. He wants more time, wants more of this, wants more of the way his skin burns wherever Mikey touches him. He wants more out of this kiss, something beyond and above it, although right now he's struggling to keep it together as it is, and he tastes the salt on both of their lips when he shudders into Mikey's mouth.

He tries to convince himself that the summer is going to be enough, but he  _knows._

With Mikey, it's never going to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Comments would be cool :)


End file.
